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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057599">Being Vocal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123'>agentz123</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who is Donald Duck? [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Astronomy, Dad! Donald, Donald Duck Needs a Hug, Gen, Insecurities and Fluff, Lullabies, Moon Theme, Pre-Canon, Silence, Three Cabs References, aged-down characters, and he gets it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:55:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>910</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057599</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentz123/pseuds/agentz123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys have an important question to ask their uncle.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Donald Duck &amp; Della Duck, Donald Duck &amp; Dewey Duck, Donald Duck &amp; Huey Duck, Donald Duck &amp; Huey Duck &amp; Louie Duck &amp; Dewey Duck, Donald Duck &amp; Louie Duck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Who is Donald Duck? [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1890283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>214</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Being Vocal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A young sailor, who donned a pink apron and orange rubber gloves, danced around his small houseboat as he cleaned the kitchen, guitars and horns thrumming from his battered clock radio. “Muita sorte teve, muita sorte tem…ba da ba daaaa...”</p><p>A small duckling snuck into his peripheral vision. “...Uncle Donald? Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>“Dewey!” Huey and Louie reprimanded, yanking him out of the kitchen by the back of his shirt. </p><p>Donald quickly separated the three of them as blows started landing. “Are you boys okay?”</p><p>“We WOULD be fine, if SOMEONE would just LISTEN!”</p><p>“If there’s something you need to say, I’m always -- ” Donald started. </p><p>“<em>NERP</em>!”</p><p>They scurried off, carrying hushed voices with them. Donald waited for anyone to change their minds, but no one returned. </p><p>“ -- listening.”</p><p>He shrugged and continued washing the dishes, his feet somewhere in Baía.</p><p>***</p><p>Usually around this time, Huey would be sitting in bed, eyes nearly as bright as his cherry highlighter, waiting for his Uncle Donald to come in and listen to everything he jotted down in his guidebook that day. Instead, he found Dewey stretched across the bed with his eyes closed. Donald went to place him under the blankets, but saw his nephew’s eyes fly open as soon as he was touched. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said gently, in a hushed tone. “Did I wake you?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Did you have something to say earlier?”</p><p>He was uncharacteristically quiet. Donald held his hand to his nephew's forehead, and then his beak. The duckling <em>felt</em> fine, but…</p><p>“Are my brothers better than me?”</p><p>Donald squawked unceremoniously. “Why would you think that?”</p><p>Again, Dewey didn’t respond. There was a gentle tug on his sleeve, pulling him up. He allowed his uncle to hold his face in cupped hands. “Dewford. You are all stupendous in your own ways. There may be some things Huey is better at, or some things that Louie takes to easier, but it’s the same with you as well. None of you are better than each other. You all...you all complete one another.” </p><p>Donald could almost hear the air hissing as it escaped from the hole in his heart. </p><p>“And no matter what, I will love you all the same.”</p><p>Dewey’s eyes widened. “Really?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Even when I break your stuff?”<br/>
“Yes.”<br/>
“Even when I take Louie’s toys and color in Huey’s books?”<br/>
“Yes.”<br/>
“Even if I grow up to be a bloodthirsty killer?”<br/>
“Yes.” </p><p>Uncle Donald didn’t even flinch on that one! He <em>really</em> does love him! </p><p>So he <em>really</em> couldn’t ask now...</p><p>Uncle Donald tilted his head to the side and turned his attention to the doorway. “Louie, Huey. Come.” Dewey beamed. He loved it when Uncle Donald did cool stuff like that, even though it was harder to get away with stuff sometimes. </p><p>The brothers started elbowing and shoving one another, trying to make room on their shared mattress. “So…” Uncle Donald started.</p><p>“We don’t want to be bad.”</p><p>“Boys,” Donald soothed. “You’ll never be bad if you have to ask me a question. Don’t ever worry about that.”</p><p>Everyone was silent until Louie piped up. </p><p>“Well...we wanted to know…”<br/>
“...why you sound…”<br/>
“...like that.”</p><p>Donald reached for his throat before he could realize what he was doing. He felt his feathers heat up -- not in anger, but in shame. </p><p>“I...I was born like that.”<br/>
“Really?”<br/>
He nodded.<br/>
“You’re not sick?”<br/>
He shook his head.<br/>
“And you didn’t eat broccoli?”<br/>
Again, a mute no.</p><p>Viciously, the silence crept into the bedroom again and held pillows up to their mouths, threatening to smother them for the rest of time. </p><p>“Can...can I ask you guys a question too?”</p><p>“Yes,” they all say. </p><p>Uncle Donald was turned away from them, his feathers standing on end. He prodded at one of the pillows that littered the floor by the edge of the bed, arranged just in case Louie kicked too hard.</p><p>Was he...scared?</p><p>No. Uncle Donald was <em>never</em> scared. Whenever there’s a big meanie around, he never cries or hides. He just puts up his fists and yells. But there weren’t any meanies around right now. </p><p>“Do you hate it?”</p><p>They looked at each other in confusion. </p><p>The quiet. The still. The hushed. He could barely hear them breathe. Donald has never hated silence more than he has tonight. The air, in desperation to feel anything more than empty, had begun gnawing at him gradually and thoroughly. Painfully. </p><p>“Um...hate what?” Huey finally asked. </p><p>Donald’s head lowered even further. “My...my voice.”</p><p>“No.”<br/>
“It is hard to understand sometimes, but…”<br/>
“...it’s yours.”<br/>
“And we don’t hate you, Uncle Donald. We love you.”</p><p>He was…noiseless. Soundless.</p><p>Speechless. </p><p>Suddenly he gathered all of them up in his arms in a suffocating hug. Huey noticed that his uncle was trembling, and managed to win the struggle against Donald’s grip and threw part of their blanket on him. Dewey and Louie scooted as much as they could so that their uncle had more room to slide in next to them. He did so after a breathless moment, and propped himself up on one elbow after tucking them in.</p><p>“Can you sing to us?”</p><p>He nodded and quickly started the lullaby with a deep desire to fill the air. “Look to the stars, my darling baby boys…”</p><p>They <em>did</em> in fact hate Donald’s singing, but they liked how it made them feel. So they didn’t listen. They just…</p><p>Felt.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you guys enjoyed! Remember, feedback is always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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